


To Your Wild Heart

by fortymaliks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1dkinkmeme2015, F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortymaliks/pseuds/fortymaliks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fill for the <a href="http://1dkink2015.livejournal.com/">1dkinkmeme</a> that I filled last night, but since it was laaaaaate, there were lots of repetitive words and typos and it wasn't a scene, it was a god damn arms race. I couldn't edit in lj comments, so I moved it here to make it a bit more readable.</p><p>This is unbetaed.</p><p>The prompt was: <i>I love this pairing but there's barely any of it so I need some fic where daisy rides harry's face. Bonus points for her tugging on harry's hair, harry being totally desperate to get her off with his mouth, and harry not coming until she's on his cock</i> (<a href="http://1dkink2015.livejournal.com/1450.html?thread=106154#t106154">original thread here.</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Your Wild Heart

 

Daisy's used to being in the same place at the same time as Harry Styles. It comes with the territory, really, all of their friends in common with varying amounts of fame. She's seen him around, and she's heard the rumors.

Not just the mud the media slings, girl after girl accredited to Harry's bedpost. Daisy's not an idiot, she knows how that works.

No, the rumors she's heard are more private ones, stories whispered among friends at Grimmy's. Lily gets a bit too drunk and spills a few of Cazza's secrets, that sort of thing, friends of friends who've heard things. Still, it's not usually something Daisy is interested in.

She's not usually this aware of where he is when they're in the same place at the same time. She doesn't track him around parties, like she knows other people do. Ridiculous, really, he's just a person. The shiny fame of Harry Styles hasn't ever really caught Daisy, not like it does other people.

Until tonight, it would seem.

He's big and solid and warm, a pleasant weight pressed up against her on the couch. Their skin is tacking together, and she's sipping her drink as he laughs, loud and bright, at something Nick's telling him.

She watches him tip his head back as he takes a long pull from his bottle, throat working long and lean, and she thinks, what if. She thinks, I wonder if the rumors are true. One tiny, niggling thought, really.

She's done for, after that.

She waits until it's time to leave and asks him to share a car. He knows what she's implying, is his raised eyebrow is anything to go by. He agrees with an easy smile, and helps her into the backseat with a large hand at the small of her back.

Intentions are made clear in the back seat with whispers and wandering hands. Soon they're closing the front door of Daisy's flat behind them, and she's pulling off his clothes as she steers him towards her bedroom.

He falls back onto the bed, graceless, limbs everywhere, and she wastes no time straddling his torso. He runs his hands where her skirt's already riding up, pressing his hands to the solid flesh of her thighs and following them up, up higher, higher still. He pushes the fabric as he goes until her skirt is around her waist and there's only a tiny slip of red satin between where she knows he can tell she's already so wet for him. He must be able to see it, where she's got her legs on either side of him, the slick satin damp against the soft skin of his belly.

He cocks an eyebrow up at her, and she nods, not sure if he's looking for permission. He's got it, if that's what he's after.

"Go on, then," she breathes, and he slides his hands between her thighs. He runs a thumb experimentally down her slit and then back up, pressing into the wetness, dragging the soaked fabric over her clit on the upstroke. She shivers, shifts her hips trying to get closer, so he does it again, firmer, and again, until she's rocking on his stomach, grinding down on him.

His hands slip behind her and palm her arse, both pressing firmly into either cheek like he's encouraging her to press more firmly. She's obliges, and soon he's pulling her up against him and rising up to meet her.

"Up, come up here," Harry says, tapping her on the ass. His pupils are blown wide when Daisy meets his gaze.

She must look quizzical, because he laughs breathlessly and clarifies, "Want you to ride my face."

And there it is, Daisy thinks, because holy fuck, she'd heard about this. Heard about how Harry's completely desperate to lick a girl out, how much he loves it. She'd heard, but she hadn't quite believed it. The way he's licking his lips now, though, makes a strong case for it.

She wastes no time lifting up and off of him, so that she can slip her panties off her legs, pull her jumper and bra over her head, and knee walk up towards the top of the bed.

It's always tentative, she muses, straddling someone's chest, but Harry helps it along by using his huge hands to pull her forward as soon as she does, so that his mouth is right there, breath puffing out hot little pants right where she needs him most.

She feels obscene like this, knees on either side of Harry's head, spread and dripping. He licks out tentatively, and she's surprised when he moans at the same time she does.

She drops forward as Harry gets to work, hands on the bed above his head. He uses his hands to hold her to him, or maybe just to hang on, as he presses his face into her wetness, licks out again, firmer, tasting her.

It's when he starts broad, flat strokes up the center of her that she takes charge, sliding her fingers into his hair and tangling them there, holding firm.

He whines high in his throat when she tugs, so she does it again, eliciting a series of whimpers that are muffled between her legs. Using the leverage to put his head where she wants him, his tongue finally slides across her clit, and she bears down harder and pulls him up more firmly, so that he does it again, his tongue pressing and sliding, again and again, until she's right on the edge. She moves back, lets him lick up her center again. She watches him taste her, fascinated by how he much he loves this, while she tries to slow her breathing down.

He's whimpering as he licks her out; tiny, breathless sounds like he can't get enough. The noises he's making do nothing to get her off the edge.

It's a few moments of long, slow strokes of Harry's tongue before she feels in control again, enough that she can tighten her grip in Harry's hair again, tip her hips towards him so that her clit is hovering over his mouth again.

"Lightly," she orders, watching his eyes shine up at her. He licks his lips as he nods, as much as he can, and lets his tongue flick out against her swollen, sensitive clit. She lets him do it over and over, building her pleasure slowly, teasing, until she can't take it anymore.

"Keep your tongue still," she breathes, and he does, flattening it out and giving her something to rock against. She slams her hips forward, rocking against the firm, flat of his tongue, again and again, chasing her orgasm. It crashes through her when her eyes meet his, when she sees the pleasure-filled awe there, unfocused but determined as she gets herself off on his tongue. She rides it out on his mouth, lets him lick warm, firm strokes over her until she's finished.

She loosens the fists in his hair, and he whimpers, as if he'd forgotten she'd had a vice grip on him. She backs up, lifts a leg up and over so that she can see him, properly.

He looks wrecked, Harry Styles does. His face is shiny and slick with her, his lips puffy and swollen, so delicious that she has to lean down and kiss him lightly, a series of tiny, butterfly kisses. She can taste herself on him, which sends a new bolt of pleasure through her belly.

"Daisy, please," Harry says, and his voice sounds destroyed, but she follows his gaze down his stomach to where his cock is hard against it, swollen and almost purple with how hard it is. He's laying still, despite looking like he might come at the slightest touch. When Daisy realizes that he's waiting for her, for her permission or instruction, the zip of pleasure develops into a warm hum low in her gut.

"Shh," she shushes, "alright, love, hang on."

Climbing off the bed, she fishes through her bedside drawer for a condom.

He hisses when she rolls it on him, and though she hadn't asked him to, he keeps his hands at his sides, doesn't lift his head from the bed or pump his hips impatiently. Someone's trained him well, she thinks, and she wonders idly whether it was Caroline, or Taylor, or someone else.  
She stops thinking when she sinks down, reaching underneath of herself to steady him at the base. She holds him tightly, fingers squeezing around the base of his cock so that he can handle the hot cling of her cunt around him. It's a lot despite her grip, she can tell, an "oh, fuck," slipping from his lips and his eyes squeezing shut as he bottoms out.

She's sensitive and he's big; she has to take a moment to adjust, shifting until he's slick enough for it to be an easily slide. She lifts up, just a bit, and drops back down slowly, experimentally, and he lets out a long, low moan. She does it again, pulls out further this time, and again, until she's working with a slow, steady, torturous rhythm that is pulling all sorts of sweet sounds from Harry.

She can tell the exact moment it becomes too much for him. He can't keep his hips still any longer, thrusts up to meet her excruciating pace. She knows it must be tough for him, but it's slowly pushing her towards another orgasm, a steady, comforting build, and she figures she's allowed to be selfish sometimes.

"Daisy, oh god, please," he pants as she pulls her hips up again, far enough this time that he almost slips out of her before she sinks back down. His eyes are panicked, fists clenches in her rose-colored sheets now, knuckles white.

"Shhh, love," she coos, swiveling her hips so that she grinds deep inside her, right where she needs it, "you've been so good for me, pet. Just a few moments more, I promise."

He whimpers, but nods frantically. She lets him have the tiny way his hips jerk; she hadn't explicitly told him to stay still, after all, and it's not affecting the way she can feel her second orgasm simmering just under the surface of her skin.

It's only when she feels like she's so close she could explode that she speeds up, pulling up faster and fucking herself on Harry's cock in quick, shallow thrusts. He's panting, a steady stream of, "oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," rolling off his tongue.

"Come, Harry, come on now, come for me," she says, and it's barely out there before he does. He thrusts his hips up, hard, and his fingers leave the bed and press into the soft flesh of her hip bones as she rides him through it.

She stills eventually, letting him breath for a moment before she lifts up and pulls of gently. She moves to shift off of Harry, to give him some room, but suddenly, his grip on her hips tightens and he’s pushing up off of the bed.

She barely has time to register what Harry's doing before he's flipped her over and she's flat on her back. He pushes her legs up and apart and presses his face to her cunt, tongue fast and hard on her clit until she's coming for a second time. He doesn't let up, carrying her through her climax and beyond, until she's pressing him away because she's so sensitive. He drops her legs and rests his forehead on her thigh, hand curled loosely around her ankle.

"That was..." Daisy speaks up, trailing off to laugh weakly, slowly willing all of her muscles to relax.

"Fucking amazing," Harry supplies, and she can feel his smile against the skin of her thigh.

They breathe together for several quiet, happy minutes, before Harry stretches and gets to his feet. He wanders away, and she can't be bothered to wonder where he's gone, but the mystery is solved when he comes back moments later with one of her fluffy towels, soothing and warm with water. He cleans her up with gentle, warm strokes; it's unnecessary, really, but it's nice, so Daisy lets it happen. He drops the towel to the floor when he's finished, and pulls her in, yanking the duvet they'd discarded earlier up and over both of them.

"Sleep now," Harry mutters, and Daisy really isn't about to argue with that. She closes her eyes and lets Harry's slow, even breathing lull her into sleep.

He's gone when she wakes up, but he's left a note that says, "I had fun last night, let's do it again some time xxxH. PS: Grimmy says we're both slags, pretty rude of him, really."

Daisy grins at the note, before setting it aside and going to see about making herself some cherry and macadamia nut pancakes. It's been a good weekend.


End file.
